WINTER EYES

FORT'S POV

The world came back in fragments. Muffled voices then the distant knocking. The taste of copper in my mouth.

My eyelids felt like lead weights. I tried to lift them, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I knew hangovers but this was something else entirely.

The knocking grew louder, more insistent, but it sounded like it was coming from underwater.

"Boss?" A familiar voice called out. Dimitri.

I managed to crack my eyes open. The ceiling spun above me, then slowly settled into focus. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as nausea rolled through me in waves.

"Fuck," I muttered while holding my throbbing head. What the fuck happened to me?

The door handle rattled. "Boss, I'm coming in."

I wanted to tell him to wait, to give me a goddamn minute, but my brain and my mouth weren't communicating properly. The door opened—Dimitri knew better than to barge into my bedroom unannounced.

His footsteps were cautious as he approached the bed. "Boss? You alright?"

I finally managed to push myself up to sitting, one hand pressed against my pounding skull. "What... time is it?"

"Nearly noon." His usual cocky demeanor was tempered with concern. He'd seen me drunk, seen me hungover, seen me after three-day benders. This was different. "You didn't answer your phone. You had three meetings this morning."

"Noon?" My vision was clearing now, the fog in my head slowly lifting. I looked down at myself and froze. My designer shirt was torn, one sleeve completely ripped away at the shoulder. Scratches marked my forearm—not deep, but deliberate.

Dimitri noticed my confusion. "Boss, what the hell happened last night? You look like you went ten rounds with—" He stopped himself, reading my expression. "You don't remember, do you?"

My jaw clenched. I remembered the bar. The pretty lady with the sharp tongue. The drinks. Then... nothing. A black void where the rest of the night should be.

"I was drugged." The words came out flat, certain. I'd never blacked out from alcohol in my life. I knew my limits.

Dimitri's posture shifted immediately, hand moving instinctively toward his concealed weapon. "Who? Where?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." I forced myself to stand, ignoring how my legs protested. My gaze swept the room with increasing clarity, cataloging everything. My jacket on the chair. My shoes by the door. My watch still on my wrist.

Then my eyes landed on the empty space on the dresser where I'd left the briefcase.

The fog cleared completely.

A slow smile spread across my face, cold and calculating. "That clever little bastard."

"Boss?" Dimitri looked where I was staring, then back at me. "The briefcase?"

"Gone." My smile widened. "Along with the pretty little con artist who drugged me."

Dimitri's eyes widened. "The Lady from last night? She robbed you?"

"He,” I corrected him. “He tried to rob me." I moved to my closet, stripping off the ruined shirt. The scratches on my arm were already scabbing over—defense wounds, probably from when I'd been fighting whatever drug was in my system. "Get me a clean shirt. Then call Marcus. I need him to track something."

"Track what? The briefcase is—"

"Exactly where I want it to be." I turned to face him, and he took an involuntary step back. "The briefcase was bait, Dimitri. I just didn't expect to catch something quite so... interesting."

"You let yourself get drugged and robbed as bait?"

"Of course not, you idiot. But I'm not about to waste a perfect opportunity." I smoothened down my hair. "The briefcase has a tracker. State-of-the-art. Our little thief thinks he scored big, but what he actually did was lead us straight to his door."

Understanding dawned on his face. "You want me to get Marcus to activate it."

"Already done." I pulled out my phone, which had been charging on the nightstand. The screen showed a blinking red dot on a map of the city. "I activated it remotely an hour ago, once my head cleared enough to think straight. I've been watching him celebrate."

Dimitri peered at the screen. "Shabby part of town."

"Mm." I pocketed the phone. "Get the car and bring Alexei and Viktor. Our little con artist is about to learn what happens when you steal from Fort Castellano."

"You want us to grab him now?"

"Give it another hour. Let him think he got away with it. Let him feel safe." My smile turned predatory. "The fall's always harder when you think you're flying."

---

ELON'S POV

I burst through the apartment door, adrenaline still singing through my veins. "Levi! LEVI!"

My roommate emerged from the kitchen, spatula in hand. "Jesus, could you be any louder? The whole building doesn't need to know you're—" He stopped when he saw the briefcase. "Holy shit. You actually did it?"

"Did it? I fucking owned it!" I set the briefcase on our battered coffee table with a triumphant thunk. "You should've seen this guy, Levi. Total mark. He didn't even see it coming."

Levi set down the spatula and moved closer, eyeing the briefcase with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "That's a nice piece of hardware. Expensive."

"Everything about this guy screamed money." I was practically vibrating with excitement. "Custom suit, designer watch, bought top-shelf everything without blinking. This briefcase is probably worth more than our rent for six months."

"And what's inside is probably worth even more." Levi crouched down, examining the locks. "These are serious. Military-grade."

"Can you open it?"

"Please. I've cracked worse." Levi disappeared into his room and returned with his tools. "But first—" He straightened up, grinning. "We celebrate. You pulled off the big score, El. The one we've been waiting for."

I felt the smile split my face. After months of small cons, pickpocketing tourists, and scraping by—this was it. This was the score that would change everything. "Break out the good stuff."

"We don't have good stuff."

"Then break out the mediocre stuff and we'll pretend it's good!"

Levi laughed and headed to our tiny kitchen. I heard the clink of glasses, the sound of liquid pouring. I stared at the briefcase, my reflection distorted in its polished surface.

For a moment—just a moment—I felt a flicker of something. Unease? The guy had been... different.  No, I was just being paranoid. The drugs had worked perfectly. The guy had been completely out of it when I slipped away.

"Here." Levi thrust a glass into my hand. "To Elon fucking Elena, master thief."

"I'll drink to that." I clinked my glass against his and downed half of it in one go. The cheap whiskey burned going down, but it tasted like victory.

We drank and talked, me recounting every detail of the con. How I'd spotted the mark at the bar. How I'd played hard to get. How I'd slipped the sedative into the man's drink when he wasn't looking.

"You're sure he didn't see you?"

"Positive. The guy was out cold when I left. Probably still sleeping it off." I finished my second glass. "By the time he wakes up and figures out what happened, I'll be long gone. We'll crack this open, take the cash, ditch the briefcase, and—"

The room tilted. I blinked, confused. The edges of my vision were going soft, blurry. "Levi?"

My roommate's face was unreadable. "Sorry, El."

"What—" I tried to stand and nearly fell. My legs weren't working right. "What did you do?"

"Same thing you did to that guy at the bar." Levi caught me as I stumbled. "You're not the only one who's supposed to get lucky tonight."

"You fucking—" I swung at him, but my movements were slow, clumsy.

His fist connected with my jaw before I could dodge. Pain exploded across my face. I staggered back, trying to raise my hands to defend myself, but everything was moving in slow motion. My body wouldn't respond the way I wanted it to.

"Should've seen this coming, El." Levi's voice sounded far away. "You always were too trusting."

He hit me again. This time I went down, my knees buckling. The floor rushed up to meet me.

"Sleep tight, partner."

The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Levi reaching for the briefcase.